


Lips Like Morphine

by TimmyJaybird



Series: We Loved with Every Step We Take [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Jason is high as a kite, JayBats, M/M, Some angst, dark au, love/hate sex, these two are sort of broken
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-21
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-08-10 05:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7832131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year together, and Jason knew Tim has said plenty of things about the two of them that ring true down to their bones, but nothing as ever hit home the way “I can’t hold onto you, but I can still hold you up," does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lips Like Morphine

**Author's Note:**

> I really did love the JayBats AU I started for JayTim week, and I finally broke and spent about 3 hours churning this thing out. While this does take please before "Offer Me that Deathless Death", definitely read that fic first as it sets up for Jason and Tim's dynamic a bit more.
> 
> I listened to Kill Hannah's "Lips like Morphine" and Nothing More's "I'll Be OK" on repeat while I wrote this.
> 
> Want more in this AU? Let me know. Because I'm down for more in the future.

Jason slumped forward, his body weight pitching into Tim as the bike screeched to a halt, within the basement of the penthouse. Around them, their make-shift cave was dark, only the lights from computers blinking. They both had a pension to leave the cave in darkness, like neither could stand to see what they had created-

 

Or, if Jason was honest,  _ Tim _ couldn’t stand to see, and Jason was willing to give that inch and not force his eyes open.

 

“Fuck, you’re going to crush me,” Tim said through gritted teeth. Jason tried to push himself back, but one hand was pressed to his burning side, trying to hold himself together, pressing tightly to the wound that broke even the armor of his suit. He groaned, one hand pushing against TIm’s back before he leaned back, just enough for Tim to climb off the bike. His Robin turned the moment he was off, reaching for Jason, grasping his free arm and getting it up over his shoulders. “I can’t carry you,” Tim said, and there was a hint of terror, beginning to creep into his voice.

 

It was something Jason seldom heard, and he wanted to cherish it, because it was  _ another _ side to his Robin he was learning- but his head was swimming and it was taking all he damn had in him to keep conscious.

 

Jason swung one heavy leg over the side of the bike, and Tim hoisted him up. He swayed, leaned heavier than he meant to on Tim, and Tim grunted, but kept his stance. He guided Jason away from the bike, through the basement, towards what they  _ considered _ their own medbay-

 

Truth be told, Jason was more likely to stitch himself up in his bedroom, and he knew Tim would do the same.

 

Jason turned, and with Tim’s help sat on the gurney like table they had. “Suit off,” Tim said, unhooking his cape, the flood of black falling to the floor. His costume had long since lost the yellow he used to wear, and longer since the green.

 

Everything in their life was black, and so,  _ so red _ .

 

Jason reached up with one hand, unhooking the metal mouth plate on his cowl. It opened and he sucked in a breath, bearing his teeth as he hissed out in pain. His whole body was throbbing, and he knew there was a slew of other injuries under this suit- it’s just, the gaping wound in his damn side was the thing that was so damn  _ distracting _ .

 

He managed to undo his cowl with one hand, tugging it off and dropping it all to the floor. The metal  _ clanged _ , and next to him, having pulled his gloves of, Tim jumped. Jason chose not to mention it.

 

“You’re taking too long,” Tim said, turning, pulling his mask off. It joined everything else on the floor, before he was reaching out, unhooking Jason’s cape. It went, and nimble fingers began to work along his suit, finding latches and hooks and slowly opening it. Jason let him, might have  _ enjoyed _ this, if he wasn’t fighting to stay awake. Tim wasn’t looking up at him, was focusing on getting through the suit, to his skin, and Jason could see these little lines around his eyes from his deep frown, from concentrating so damn hard.

 

He knew every line on Tim’s face. He’d spent the past year of this sordid partnership learning him in every way the man allowed. Which weren’t many, but Jason took what he could get.

 

He never meant to be in this deep with the damn  _ Replacement _ , but Tim… Tim was full of surprises.

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Tim muttered, pulling Jason’s hand from his side so he could push the suit up. He stared at the wound, the jagged tear of flesh that was losing enough blood to make Jason think he’d be dying a second time, tonight. “I don’t have time to get everything off. You’ll have to deal.”

 

Jason said nothing, as Tim reached for the wheeled tray nearby. He’d been piling it high while Jason had worked his cowl off, and took the few seconds to pull on a set of latex gloves.

 

“I don’t have time to numb you,” Tim said, and there wasn’t an ounce of apology in his voice. He pushed at the wound, his fingers digging in, and Jason gritted his teeth, nearly snarling. He didn’t doubt Tim enjoyed it, a bit- that pained sound, digging around inside him.

 

Jason didn’t exactly blame him.

 

“Stay with me,” Tim said, “fuckin’ talk or something, but  _ stay awake _ . You go out on me and I’m not getting you back.

 

Jason sucked in a breath through his nose, and spoke slowly, nausea rolling up him with each word. “Not getting me back  _ or not trying _ ?” He glanced over, but Tim didn’t look up at him. “Which is it, Replacement?”

 

“Robin doesn’t let Batman die,” Tim offered up, and Jason felt his fingers pinching  _ things _ , holding bits of him together- and then the pull of a needle. “ _ Talk _ .”

 

Jason swallowed. Talking wasn’t something they  _ did _ . About cases, about the lowlifes of the city, maybe. But that was it. Tim didn’t open up to Jason about his thoughts and his fears and what he missed about the life Jason had taken away from him- and Jason didn’t bother to fill in the silent gaps with memories or hopes and dreams or any other sort of benine bullshit.

 

“You looked good out there,” he settled for, as Tim clamped something, was wiping at his side with a towel, trying to clear the blood so he could see. That earned him a flick of those gorgeous skylight eyes- that moonlight blue that Jason figured belonged in cheesy romance films in long, panning shots from horror flicks. Ethereal.

 

Tim glanced back down, and Jason felt his fingers applying just a little less pressure. “Thanks.” A moment later, a few more bites of a needle, and then- “You were a fucking trainwreck.”

 

Jason snorted, and god that  _ hurt _ but he couldn’t help himself. “Careful  _ Robin _ , no one talks to the Bat like that.”

 

“The guy stuck patching him up does.” Tim leaned back, wiping at his forehead with the back of his wrist. Jason could see some of his hair sticking to it. “You need a transfusion.”

 

“Well’s run dry,” Jason offered, glancing over to the fridge where they kept their stock. “No time to buy my way into blood banks lately.” Jason swallowed, closing his eyes, because his head was spinning again.

 

“Jason.” When he didn’t respond, it came a little louder, “ _ Jason _ !” and his eyes snapped open. “You look like a ghost.”

 

Jason offered a toothy smirk- and despite the circumstances, Tim could admit it was still terrifying. “It’s a problem when I start looking white.”

 

Tim was back to poking, prodding, piercing- but Jason caught his smile. “Don’t joke you asshole.”

 

Jason sucked on his tongue. Tim rarely smiled now. A year and Jason could count on probably both hands the amount of smiles he’d seen. Go figure he’d get one while he was nearly bleeding out.

 

Despite Tim urging him to speak, Jason lapsed into silence. That was their natural state, anyway, and he couldn’t seem to break it. Silence or screaming at each other- screaming on the streets, a volatile dynamic duo unlike Gotham had ever seen. But Jason thought it  _ worked _ , they were picking away at the city’s filthy underbelly in ways Bruce never  _ had _ . Going for the heart with talons out and teeth bared.

 

It was the only way Jason knew, and he could see that, despite Tim  _ fighting it _ , it was in his nature.

 

Finally, Tim’s hands were pulling away, and he was wiping at Jason’s side with the towel again. “I think I got all the bleeding to stop,” Tim offered, leaning back in his chair and pulling one of his gloves off. The latex  _ snapped _ , the sound echoing through their cave. Jason glanced down, twisting to look at his side no matter how badly it hurt. Tim’s stitching was quick, a little sloppy- and the scar would be evident, Jason knew.

 

He had plenty, what was one more.

 

“At least my guts stayed in me,” Jason offered, turning his eyes back to Tim’s face. His Robin looked  _ tired _ , but Tim was getting up anyway, taking his second glove off and tossing it on the tray.

 

“Lucky you.” He walked away from Jason, towards on of the counters, rummaging through cupboards and drawers. “I’ll hook you up to some fluids and morphine once you’re upstairs. A few days and you’ll probably be jumping off a building again. Or a moving vehicle.”

 

He didn’t look back, and Jason chose to bite his tongue. Yeah, maybe he’d been reckless, jumped right off the top of a speeding car and onto a bike with two of the trafficking runners, and how was  _ he _ supposed to know they sported the sort of blades that cut through the tech in his suit? Maybe he’d been  _ stupid _ , but he’d seen a chance and taken it.

 

It was worth it. His guts were still in his belly and the traffickers were dead on his streets. A victory in his book.

 

“Stand up.” Tim again, having moved back around the table, arms full of bags, little tubes. Jason pushed off the table, his suit feeling awkward bunched and strewn around him. He swayed, leaned his hips back against the table, and Tim sighed, tilting one shoulder down. “Arm around me,” he said, “I can’t hold onto you, but I can still hold you up.”

 

Jason was digesting those words the entire ride up the penthouse. Because it felt so damn  _ true _ to what they were. How they could spend days not even  _ seeing _ each out in the expanse of the penthouse in the heart of Gotham Jason had taken up, as their home. How Tim floated through his own rooms, could avoid entire levels of the penthouse if it meant staying away from Jason. And yet… he was still holding Jason up. He was reason to Jason’s madness- he wasn't his  _ mind _ , Jason was too damn smart to ever need anyone else to think for him- but Tim tapered him, balanced him. If Jason wanted to be a little hot headed, Tim pulled on the reigns until the bit in Jason’s mouth was choking him.

 

Jason  _ knew _ that’s why Tim had agreed to be with him, a year ago. Aside of saving  _ Grayson’s _ life, he knew the younger thought he had some sort of moral  _ duty _ to offset the blood Jason intended to wash Gotham clean with. But…

 

He  _ wasn’t _ offsetting anything. If anything, he was making sure Jason lived to continue his purge.

 

He was holding him up while still somehow never touching him.

 

They made it to the level where their bedrooms were, and stumbled out of the elevator, slowly. The walk down the hallway was slow going, but once Jason’s bedroom door was thrown open, Jason thought it was worth it. His bed looked like heaven, and he just wanted to crawl into it and disappear for a day or two.

 

He wished Tim would crawl in with him.

 

“Get out of the suit,” Tim said, for the second time, as he left Jason to lean against the doorway. He walked over to his bed, settling everything he’d brought onto it. He was moving about, opening Jason’s closet and pulling the IV rack out that he  _ kept _ there- and this wasn’t uncommon, Jason bleeding out onto Tim’s hands.

 

But it had never been this bad this fast.

 

The suit was slow going. Jason got as far as stripping the gloves off and finishing the top half when Tim was done hanging the various bags where he wanted them. Jason went to bent over, to get at his boots, and grunted, his side sparking with pain. He huffed, and Tim was walking over, footsteps somehow soft despite his own boots.

 

“Let me,” Tim said, getting down onto his knees in front of Jason. His hands moved along the leather, working buckles and ties, and Jason stared down. His fingers curled, and he wanted to bury them in Tim’s hair, curl the thick, inky black strands around his fingers. Wanted Tim to lean in, press his face to Jason’s thigh and breathe in his skin and sweat and just  _ exist _ .

 

Jason dreamt about Tim. Dreamt about him in ways he figured  _ Batman _ shouldn’t dream about  _ Robin _ \- but if there was a soul in the world that could blame him, they were infinitely silent. Tim was beautiful and Jason wasn’t  _ blind _ -

 

And he was the only person Jason had. Jason knew Tim believed  _ he _ was the one cut off, that Jason had taken him away from everyone and given only himself- but Jason was just as alone as Tim would ever be.

 

“Up,” Tim said, holding one boot, and Jason lifted his foot, stepping free of it. Tim let it flop over, before repeating the command, freeing Jason of the other boot. He stood up, then reached out, fingers curling over Jason’s utility belt, working carefully to disarm to taser there, before it  _ clicked _ open.

 

It crashed to the floor, and Tim didn’t jump this time.

 

“I brought morphine,” Tim said, and he was working the bottom half of Jason’s suit open. Jason felt beyond the pain now, was acutely aware of the feeling of Tim’s fingers, of the way his breath hit his bare chest when Tim tipped his head down, glancing at his side again. “You’ll need it.”

 

Jason swallowed thickly, but the words didn’t come. His hands stayed at his side instead of pulling at Tim’s hair, holding his face and feeling the heat of his cheeks, pushing to his throat to memorize his pulse- and suddenly Tim had the bottom half of his suit open, was pulling it down Jason’s hips. He bent slightly, his breath closer, harder on Jason’s chest, as Tim got the fabric down onto his thick thighs.

 

Jason almost trembled, was too weak from blood loss to fight that. Tim’s knuckles brushed his bare, tanned thighs, before Tim was dropping down again, hard onto his knees. The suit continued down, until it pooled around Jason’s ankles, and he was standing there in just his underwear. Tim stared up, and Jason wanted to think he imagined the smoke in those eyes, because he didn’t dare give himself any sort of  _ hope _ that Tim saw in him what he saw in his Robin.

 

“Step.” Jason obeyed, taking a single step with one foot, Tim freeing the suit from his ankle. Repeat, and he was truly in nothing but his briefs, and Tim was still on his damn knees, still in most of his suit, and this was some sort of wild, wet dream.

 

Jason couldn’t be shocked that there would have to be violence and blood leading up to him getting any sort of  _ intimacy _ . He wasn’t sure any  _ good _ part of his life didn’t have a blood trail leading to it.

 

But then Tim stood up, and Jason tried to reconcile with his mind that he was exaggerating this, seeing things that weren’t there. That his brain probably didn’t have enough blood to properly function.

 

“Bed,” Tim said, jerking his head, and Jason walked over, slowly, his steps dragging. Something in his thigh hurt, a pulled muscles, probably. He knew his shoulders would bruise, he’d landed so poorly when the bike had spilled he and his two targets to the pavement.

 

Jason crawled in, and Tim walked around, grabbing one of his arms and forcing it tender side up. He rubbed his thumb along the sensitive skin, at the crook of Jason’s elbow, and Jason stared up at the ceiling, couldn’t watch. This was their intimacy, this was all the love his Robin would ever give him, and he was  _ dealing _ with that in the best way he could.

 

He wanted to think he hadn’t  _ loved _ Tim in some sordid way when this started. Wanted to think he hated him and hated  _ Bruce _ enough that he wanted to stain his memory, take his last Robin and make him into a monster just like Jason had become. But even then, something about Tim had felt like it was stuck inside Jason’s ribs, sticky and clinging uncomfortably but still  _ there _ .

 

The last year had made it so much worse.

 

Jason barely registered the needle of the IV. Didn’t look over as Tim taped the tubes down- until when those fingers were tracing down his arm, to rub against his exposed wrist.

 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Tim murmured, and it was  _ affectionate _ \- or was that the blood loss? Jason didn’t know, but when those fingers pulled away his belly ached. “Get some rest and don’t die on me.”

 

Jason didn’t say anything. Instead he closed his eyes, listened to the sound of Tim scooping up the pieces to his suit- and then his footsteps, towards the door.

 

When it shut, Jason let himself drift, because there was nothing to stay awake for.

 

Jason wasn’t sure how long he slept for, but the creak of his bedroom door was what woke him again. He licked his lips, not opening his eyes until he heard footsteps- much lighter and softer now, coming towards him.

 

And then suddenly the bed was dipping next to him. He cracked his eyes open, feeling hazy, and that was the morphine, he knew. Keeping him from feeling to burn in his side. He stared up, saw nothing at first- and then, in the dark, those damn eyes, that moonlight along a massacre.

 

“Tim,” he croaked, and his Robin didn’t smile, kept staring with that stoic frown, despite the fact that there was color to his cheeks. Tim reached out, and suddenly he was brushing Jason’s hair back, off his forehead. His palm was cool, and Jason felt warm, tipping his head and wanting to chase it.

 

“You’re an idiot,” Tim said, his voice sounding weak, tired. Another stroke along Jason’s hair. “You should be dead.”

 

“Said that,” Jason offered, even if he couldn’t remember if Tim truly had. “Be nice for you.” He swallowed, and his tongue was thick and useless, and he wasn’t sure he was really awake. But Tim’s frowned deepened, drew out those lines at his eyes that Tim was too young to have.

 

Tim reached out, tugged at the sheet that lay over Jason, pulling it down. He leaned over him, so damn close that if Jason could arched, they would touch, and in the dark was peering at his side. A finger touched, and Jason winced.

 

“Die and leave me alone,” Tim mumbled, and Jason noticed his shoulders shake. It took a moment, but he reached up, dragged the back of his knuckles along Tim’s waist.

 

“Tim.”

 

“Don’t say my name,” Tim offered, pushing back up and staring down at Jason. The corners of his eyes were wet, and Jason couldn’t piece together what was happening- but then Tim was holding onto his thigh, squeezing the thick, warm muscle. “ _ Don’t _ . You don’t get to leave me and say it.”

 

“I’m… here.” Jason tipped his head to the side, slightly. “Not leavin’ you… Robin.”

 

“You will if you don’t learn some damn  _ control _ .” Tim dug his nails in, and Jason winced. “And if  _ you _ die, where the fuck does that leave me?” Jason could feel Tim trembling, through the fingers clinging to him. “What the fuck does that leave me with? A broken city and blood under my nails?” He leaned over Jason, stared into his gunmetal eyes. “Without you, Jason,  _ I’ve got nothing _ .”

 

Tim was wild and terrified and  _ hurt _ , and Jason could see it but his mind was foggy. All he knew was that Tim was still touching him and telling him not to die, and god- how did they get here? How did a year find them alone in a rotting city with just each other to cling to?

 

How did they lose everyone else?

 

Jason figured he lost everyone in a burning warehouse when he choked on smoke, but  _ Tim _ ? He’d fought his own loss and now… here he was, accepting it.

 

“If you ever fucking leave me,” Tim said, his voice cracking, “I’ll make  _ sure _ you get to hell.”

 

“There everyday,” Jason offered, reaching up for a second time. This time the backs of his fingers brushed Tim’s chin. “Careful, or I’ll think you care.”

 

Tim tore his face away, shifting, and his hand traced up, hit the line of Jason’s briefs and the hypersensitive skin there, and Jason let out a breath.

 

“You and me,” Tim said, and his voice, it was resigned and it was aching, “We don’t have a choice but to care.”

 

“Always a choice, Tim.” It wasn’t a lie- Jason had always given him a  _ choice _ . The options weren’t always what Tim wanted, but they were there.

 

Tim sucked on his teeth, before his fingers curled in the waistband of Jason’s briefs- and he was dragging them down. Jason’s eyes went a little wider, wanted to ask Tim what the  _ hell _ he was doing- but then there was a cool hand curling around his flaccid cock, and rational thought was a long lost memory. Tim’s thumb rubbed around his head, making Jason shiver.

 

“You look at me like you can see my bones,” Tim breathed, as Jason could feel himself getting hard. “Like you can see every crevice in my body. You look at me like you want to peel my skin off to make sure you didn’t miss a crack in my spine.” Tim squeezed, and Jason let out a breath. “And I… I can’t… I don’t know what to  _ do _ about that.”

 

Jason might have thought, once, to tell Tim  _ this _ wasn’t usually the action someone took for that. But he wanted this so damn badly and he  _ knew _ he looked at Tim like that- he just didn’t believe his Robin ever noticed.

 

“I want to hate you,” Tim whispered, leaning over Jason, his hand moving in solid, slow strokes now. Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever gotten this hard this fast in his life- and considering the morphine, he’d have to  _ congratulate _ himself, when he could think past the fog and Tim’s fingers and those eyes. “But I don’t know  _ how _ . I try and I just…” he shook his head. “I thought I was going to lose you. I thought you were going to die on me.”

 

His hand pulled away, and Jason whined, wanted it  _ back _ . After tonight, the notion that his body could feel  _ good _ seemed foreign, and he needed the reminder. But Tim was pulling away, climbing off the bed, walking around it. He tugged his shirt off, left it somewhere by the foot, and when he came to the other side, he’d worked his sweatpants off, so that they were falling down his slim legs.

 

He was naked. Tim Drake-  _ Robin _ \- was naked, and Jason wasn’t dreaming. At least, he didn’t think.

 

Tim climbed up, straddled one of Jason’s thighs, settling onto it. Jason felt the soft skin of his balls, and when he leaned forward, the drag of his cock, the hot skin and the fact that he was hard and Jason hadn’t even noticed. Tim got his hands fisted on the bed, pressed his mouth to the hollow point just under the center of Jason’s ribs.

 

His lips had never once touched Jason. And Jason was so sure the silk of an angel’s wings had nothing on his Robin’s mouth.

 

“I want to hate you but I spend my nights  _ thinking _ about you instead.” He shifted, cock rubbing against Jason’s thigh. “I ride my fingers and wish you’d just throw me over something and get this out of my  _ system _ .”

 

Jason gasped, arching- and despite the morphine that  _ hurt _ , but he couldn’t stop himself. “Tim.”

 

Tim shivered, groaned as he arched, trailed his mouth down to Jason’s navel, to the start of the shockingly soft, dark downy hair that led to his groin. “I swear I get off in my suit when you tear someone apart, and I don’t know who I am because of it.”

 

Jason whimpered, and Tim straightened up. He shifted, moved those perfectly curved legs until he was resting against Jason’s belly, Jason’s cock brushing along the curve of his ass.

 

“Tell me you don’t want me,” Tim said, and it was almost as if he was  _ pleading _ for Jason to. “Tell me I’m worthless and you hate me. Tell me to  _ go _ .”

 

Jason couldn’t, because they’d all be  _ lies _ , and he might not have always given Tim the whole truth, but lying to his face? No. Tim deserved better than that.

 

Jason reached up, ran his hands along the curves of Tim’s calves, to his thighs, and Tim shivered, tipping his head back. Jason could see the faint lines of scars and wanted to lean up, wanted his mouth on Tim- wanted to suck at his bottom lip and kiss him until he would whine Jason’s name. More than anything, he wanted that little show of intimacy-

 

Just a damn kiss.

 

But his hands found Tim’s hips and squeezed, and Tim didn’t offer the kisses. Instead he lifted up, reaching back with one hand, curling it around the base of Jason’s cock to hold it steady. He eased back, and Jason felt the heat of his hole, as he pressed against him- and then Tim’s body was  _ giving _ and wet already, and Jason was sliding inside him.

 

Jason’s mouth fell open, his breath a ragged rasp in his throat, as Tim sighed, choking a little when he settled with Jason fully inside him. “Fuck,” he whispered, shaking, hands clenching, his nails biting into his palms. He didn’t move, simply breathed, and Jason was trying to piece this together.

 

“You- after… you stitched me up…” Tim leaned his head down, looked at Jason through thick lashes and wisps of his hair.

 

“I fucked myself and thought about you,” Tim admitted- and then, because his tongue was loose now, “I take my stress out on my hand and my fingers. And it always ends with me thinking of  _ you _ … and I just… if you died…” Tim shook his head, chose to stop speaking. He lifted up, thighs carrying him, before he slid back down. Jason groaned, his hands squeezing at Tim’s thighs, as his Robin did it again,  _ again _ , set a rhythm that was heavy slams of his body down onto Jason-

 

Like Tim was desperate. Like Tim was trying to forget something, to push it so far inside himself he never had to see it again.

 

Jason tipped his head back, but missed seeing Tim, and promptly forced himself to tip forward. Tim had tipped his own back, was bouncing in his lap and sighing blissfully, his cock bobbing and pressing against his own belly with each movement. He looked like a damn ghost, and Jason figured the dead only ever copulated with their kin, so it was  _ perfect _ .

 

Tim leaned over slightly, pressed his hands onto Jason’s chest, getting himself to slam down harder. Jason swore the stars were living in his skull, he’d never felt this damn good before- but then again, the only time he’d  _ fucked _ before was that one night with Talia, and that felt like it existed behind a layer of cellophane, in his mind.

 

This was here and happening and he could see through the morphine fog enough to know that.

 

Tim’s nails dug at his chest, his breaths coming faster, and he was wild and gorgeous- and it was this, this Tim that Jason had seen. The wild animal that  _ felt  _ so damn much and tried to pretend he  _ didn’t _ . That emulated Bruce but could  _ never _ keep all that emotion inside him forever.

 

“Hate. You.” Tim managed, slamming down on Jason’s cock. But then a choked sob, and, “Don’t ever leave me.”

 

Jason wanted to say he never would, that hell would have to open up, that the Devil would have to drag him personally from Tim’s side. That he’d be the beast in Tim’s chest  _ until the end of days _ \- but his tongue felt dead and he was vaguely aware of his side  _ burning _ , but he couldn’t bring himself to care. The morphine dulled it enough- and Tim’s body chased it nearly away.

 

“Fuck. Jason.  _ Jason _ .” Tim whined his name, trembled, and Jason got his hands up to the curve of his waist, echoed in a weak voice  _ Tim _ , and Tim let out a sob. “Fuck you’re everything.”

 

Jason squeezed, because this was all he’d ever have.

 

Tim arched back up, his body pushing down with his weight, and Jason swore the sheet felt damp, around him, pooling along his hip. But he was enthralled, watched Tim’s mouth as he moaned and gave breathy curses. He still wanted it, wanted to kiss him until they both suffocated. The world be damned, a single year together and Jason was willing to give everything up for this man.

 

Tim arched then, gave a loud cry- and he was shaking, was coming up onto his own belly. Jason stared, felt his body clenching around him tightly, and he was following, less from the feeling and more from the way Tim whimpered  _ Jason _ into the room, like it was a prayer.

 

Tim slumped forward, knees digging into the sheets, panting, and Jason was dizzy. He stared, until Tim was leaning over him completely, a hand gripping his shoulder tightly as he crashed their mouths together. It was desperate, broken, but the kiss said more than Tim had, the entire night.

 

He couldn’t lose Jason. And he was reaching out, trying to make his point as best as he could- that he’d been scared that night he  _ would _ . Jason exhaled through his nose, reached up with one hand and got his hand in Tim’s hair, tangled the thick strands around his fingers like he’d wanted to earlier. His tongue pushed against Tim’s lips, but never got past them as Tim’s wormed its way into his mouth- learned the secrets of his teeth and the messages on his tongue.

 

When Tim pulled back, Jason no longer knew how to breathe- but on those lips there was the ghost of a smile, this subtle curve that Jason would sear into his memory.

 

And then Tim’s eyes going wide and he was pulling away, looking down, and- “Jason. Jason you’re bleeding.”

 

Jason’s eyes fluttered, and Tim was looking down, before cursing.

 

“Fuck, your stitches.”

 

Tim climbed off him- and that was an awful feeling, losing that heat and that  _ connection _ . But Jason didn’t fight it, managed to push up on one elbow- gasping because there was a flare of pain, as he looked down.

 

His sheets were soaked, around his wound. He could see the dark stain, spreading, and when he glanced at Tim there was blood on one of his knees, trickling down his calves.

 

“Fuck,  _ fuck _ .” Tim reached out, balled up the sheet and pressed it to the wound. “Jason.  _ Jason look at me _ .” Jason did, and Tim took his hand, forcing it to hold over the sheet. “I need you to hold this here. I have to stitch you back up-  _ shit _ .” He grabbed his sweatpants, tugging them on, and he was hurrying out of the room, the door slamming open.

 

Jason heard him  _ running _ , and thought it was okay. If he bled out now, so be it. He’d had his moment, he’d felt for the first time in so damn long like he wasn’t alone. He’d had his Robin and he had his mouth to chase away the pain, better than the morphine making it hard to still cling to consciousness.

 

When Time came back, he all but tore the sheet away. The box he was holding must have been a first aid kit from his own room, and he was quick to clean the skin, working a fresh set of stitches into it. Jason felt the needle but ignored it, chose to drown in the memory of Tim’s mouth instead.

 

When Tim was finally done, he stood up, hands shaking- before he reached out, leaned over Jason and gripped his chin. He smeared blood along it, forcing the man to stare at him- and Jason wasn’t sure if Tim was panting from the sex still, or from  _ fear _ . “Stop trying to die,” Tim said, and his eyes were wet.

 

And then, in a broken voice,

 

“Stop trying to leave me alone.”

 

Jason shook his head, reached up and weakly wrapped his hand around Tim’s wrist. “Never leave you,” he managed, “Eternity.”

 

He wanted to speak into the heavens and hells about it, wanted to swear his life and his death to the man that was going to bleed out in these city streets with him- but the morphine wouldn’t let Jason. Still, Tim’s eyes softened and he leaned over, pressed his forehead to Jason’s.

 

Jason felt a few tears dripping down onto his cheeks.

 

“I shouldn’t have done that,” Tim admitted, “fuck, I’m no better than you ever were.” His hand moved up, tangled in Jason’s hair. “You’re high as fuck, you can’t know what I’m doing.”

 

Jason licked his lips, hated that his body felt like lead because he wanted to wrap himself up around Tim. “Know you,” Jason managed, “know  _ us _ .”

 

He said  _ us _ like they could be a single entity, and Tim choked.

 

“I have to get you cleaned up,” he admitted, “You have to get up. There's blood all over your bed now.” Jason shook his head, and Tim huffed, before pulling back, carefully crawling over Jason’s legs to stretch out next to him. He pressed his hand to Jason’s chest, settled his cheek against his shoulder and stared across the room. “You can’t sleep like this.”

 

“Watch...me.”

 

Tim huffed. “I’d slap you if I wasn’t worried about having to stitch you up a  _ third _ time.” He rubbed Jason’s chest, and it was soothing. “You get a few minutes, and then you’re moving.” Jason licked his lips, and they felt dry despite the fact that his spit felt so damn thick from the drugs. He didn’t protest, let his eyes fall shut, and simply enjoyed having someone in bed with him.

 

No one had ever stayed. He’d never  _ held _ anyone, and he wished he could hold Tim. “Stay,” he whispered, and Tim turned, his lips dragging along the curve of Jason’s chest.

 

“I can’t promise that,” he admitted, sounding a little sick with himself. “I don’t know if I can be here in the morning. But…” He lifted his head, leaned in closer- and he was nuzzling Jason’s neck. “I can… come back. Fuck, we’re in this mess together, may as well just die in it together too.”

 

Jason turned, and when Tim lifted his head,  _ he _ stole a kiss. Tim seemed shocked, but he fell right into it, kissing back like he had kissed Jason goodnight every night of their lives. Like they had a history neither of them knew about. “Promise I’m not dying,” Jason managed, and the whole sentence took so damn much out of him. Tim smiled, soft and pretty, and Jason would never forget it.

 

He didn’t fool himself into believing he’s get a lot of these.

 

“You better not.” Tim leaned over, pressed their foreheads together again. “What’s Robin without his Batman?”

 

“Free,” Jason admitted, and Tim’s fingers were shaking against him.

 

“Lonely,” he corrected. “Neither of us are ever free, Jason. Don’t lie to yourself.”

 

Jason  _ didn’t _ , and he knew Tim was right.

 

“Now,” Tim added, pulling back, “Get the fuck up, someone has to clean up this mess.” Jason huffed, but didn’t move, and Tim frowned, pushing at his shoulder. “You’re insufferable,” he said, and Jason smiled.

 

The real kind that Tim didn’t miss, that had his breath catching in his throat.

 

And whatever the hell the morning brought, Jason would never  _ forget _ this. Not even the morphine could make him forget the way Tim’s mouth made the demons seem alright, in the end.


End file.
